let me count all of the ways
by NickyFox13
Summary: Fifty stories of love, in various forms and with various pairings.
1. ZachariasMichael

**A/N: Pairing taken from Mew & Morghen's Weird Pairings forum. Also, written for the Pairing Diversity challenge on Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenge forum. This will be a collection of pairings of all kinds: slash, het, femmeslash and from all different eras. Updates will happen whenever inspiration hits. **

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Zacharias appreciated his privacy. He didn't like people invading his space, especially if he didn't know them. This afternoon was one of those times in which Zacharias needed time alone. He found clearing his head in a quiet, isolated place helped him solve all his most terrible problems. Zacharias learned early on that he should avoid the Hufflepuff common room at all costs if he wanted some time alone. As much as he grudgingly tolerated his housemates, he didn't like how overly chatty they got when they decided that socializing would be a good idea. Justin Finch-Fletchley and Hannah Abbott, when put together in the same room, would make it explode with the sheer amount of mindless chatter they produced.

Their puppy-like enthusiasm and love of talking would be endearing if it weren't so Merlin-forsaken annoying.

The Room of Requirement, as isolated as it was at times, slowly became more well known due to Harry using it for the Defense Against the Dark Arts training last year. (There was a part of Zacharias that couldn't bring to call it the place where Dumbledore's Army trained. It was painful, he guessed, to remember that a war loomed over his wiry frame. He couldn't predict when it came, but it was heading straight for Hogwarts, Zacharias could feel it in his bones.)

As cliche as it was, the library was probably the best place to just be alone. People had enough common sense to swoop in, finish (or, in some cases, hastily start) their work, and get their arses out of there. He figured that, since he was in the library, he'd do some work while he was at it.

Sometimes, Zacharias couldn't believe how incredibly intelligent he was, thinking of that all by himself. So that's precisely what he did: work to focus his mind so that none of this silly useless anxious energy would bother him. Besides, work was indeed a way to get some time alone. Because seriously, who was dumb enough to bother him when he clearly was busy in the middle of something obviously important? Nobody! That's who.

He jumped when he felt a cold hand touch his shoulder. There went his plan for peace, quiet, and alone time.

"Dear Lord! What's _wrong_ with you? Can't you tell I'm working?" Zacharias practically screamed, jumping out of his chair in a panic.

"Things I probably don't even know. You don't have to be so mean, you know," the familiar voice of Michael Corner said, clearly pouting. Zacharias didn't even need to see the grand idiot's face to know what he was doing. Zacharias got up from where he fell, swept the dirt off of himself. Not like there was a lot though, anyway, because the library was one thing if not immaculate. Finally, Zacharias turned to face Michael, dressed up in a crisp black suit, with a grey shirt underneath and plain brown loafers. The one thing that stood out was the tie he wore. It was obnoxiously bright shade of magenta and could have blinded an oblivious person.

"What are you wearing?" Zacharias asked with a raised eyebrow.

"My glad rags! They're pretty snazzy, aren't they?" Michael said with a grin and a giddy twirl. Zacharias sighed. Michael was obviously in a good mood. Zacharias may have been snarky with a cruel streak but he was definitely not an outright asshole.

"You look fine," Zacharias said with a touch of a grin.

"Are you sure? Cause I don't want-" Michael rambled, but was cut short by an exasperated Zacharias.

"Damn it, you look fine. There's no time in life to second-guess yourself," Zacharias grunted.

"You_ sure_?" Michael asked. Zacharias didn't say anything, and just looked at him as if he was some sort of loony. Michael reluctantly smiled.

"I can always count on your honesty, Zacharias!" Michael chirped after a painful could of silent moments.

"I wouldn't, but thanks for the sentiment. You're a good guy, I guess." More painful silence ensued.

_Well, at least now I know Michael can have fun staring contests, _Zacharias thought before turning on his heel to return studying.

"Wait!" Michael said.

"What now? A confession?"

"Reliable and a psychic, that's fantastic."

"Michael you're an idiot. You don't seem like the type to confess much, really."

"But I do! I like you. That's my confession." For the second time during this conversation, Zacharias sighed. Michael kept his gaze intently at Zacharias, hoping that his mind would change. It wouldn't, but Zacharias wouldn't admit to that.

"You're just kidding yourself, Michael. There's so many other people that would certainly actually like you back," Zacharias said.

"But if I liked someone else, I'd be dating them all ready," Michael countered hotly.

"Look, I'm not doubting that. But I'm not the one you're looking for, okay? So don't chase after me. Let's be friends or something though. That could work," Zacharias weakly explained, too ashamed of Michael's pouting face to keep looking him in the eyes. He briefly pecked Michael on the cheek, a soft and light little thing.

"Run along," and Michael did as he was told.

_Damn, denying him was the hardest thing I've done in a while,_ Zacharias thought, exhaling sharply. He turned around to clean up his books and slowly walked back to his common room.


	2. KatieOliver

**A/N: The plot was from the "Originality in your Favorite Pairing" challenge on the HPFC and the prompt was from M&MWP forum.**

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A broken heart, no matter the circumstances, always trumped a broken bone. So when Katie found herself in Mungo's for a broken leg because of the War, she was devastated. It meant she was helpless, unable to do something that could change the entire Wizarding world. That thought was incredibly arrogant, but the point still stood.

The ability to do something, anything, whatever she could, was ripped from under her, and Katie wanted to cry like a child. Letting tears stream down her face in memory of the things she couldn't do but wanted to (save someone, be remembered, do something, _anything _except lay here and be useless) was more productive than being a part of something barely fixable.

So she wrote.

**_Dear Oliver, _**was how her words started. Typical. He was like the burly safe haven in her life. She hadn't heard from him lately, as he was off doing important actions that had an impact. Unlike her, with a useless broken leg.

Katie's mind went blank. What could she tell him? There wasn't a way to let him know about her leg without him dropping whatever he did and rush over to Mungo's. The last time she hurt herself, Oliver thought he could do better than everyone in this hospital and tried to fix her last injury himself. It made her injury worse and she had to stay at Mungo's for an extra three weeks.

She chuckled. Oliver's…devotion went above and beyond at times. That she missed about him.

**_What if I never see you again? I don't know what I'd do with myself. _**Katie had no idea why that sentence came into her mind. She remained confident that she'd see Oliver. He couldn't leave her, it was physically impossible for him to just go off and abandon a friend in such a callous manner. So she found herself at ease, knowing he'd still be there. She scribbled that line away, knowing it was utter bullocks.

Katie couldn't write letters to save her life, so she decided it would be best to just wait out her broken leg like an adult. That would be much easier than whining endlessly in bed, anyway.


	3. PansyDraco

**A/N: This is way out of my comfort zone, and truthfully, I'm kind of nervous posting this. So constructive criticism is welcome.**

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Pansy, ever the intelligent girl, had many questions burning in the back of her mind. The most important question that constantly gnawed in her thoughts was about Draco's virginity. Did he actually have sex as much as he bragged? Or were his words as empty as his words?

She realized that, yes, thinking about someone else's virginity was incredibly odd. Especially since Pansy had contentedly lost her virginity before many of the Slytherin girls could even think about sex. But this wasn't about her sex life. She wanted answers to Draco's, and she wanted them fast. The reason for her curiosity was simple: Pansy was horny and she wanted to channel it in a healthy way.

So she did what she did best when unanswerable questions came to mind, especially ones that came to her horny: slyly interrogate in the sneakiest of ways until Pansy got the answers she desperately wanted.

She strutted proudly toward the Slytherin girl's dormitory to change out of her too-baggy school uniform and her equally baggy robes. For a few precious moments, she savored being completely naked all by herself, and then changed into a tight fitting shirt that barely covered her belly and showed off her ample chest. She wore a skirt that hugged her wide hips and accentuated that she had legs that seemed to go on forever. Pansy sauntered to find Draco and was pleasantly surprised to find that he appeared right in front of her.

"You're looking quite dashing tonight," Pansy said, knowing that Draco lived for compliments. However, Draco didn't seem so energetic at the moment. He seemed quieter than usual, as if someone punched all the oxygen out of his lungs.

"Thanks," he barely mumbled, and Pansy thought he could have at least complimented her on her luscious skin or her clothing or something.

"Oh darling, tell Mama Pansy all of your troubles," Pansy purred, putting a loving arm around his shoulder. Draco noticed the little amount of clothes she was wearing, and tried his hardest to suppress a surprised squeak. Her large bosom pressed tight to his body as Pansy tried to hug his troubles away. Draco couldn't stand the idea of pushing a willing and half-naked Pansy away, so he hugged her back tightly. He savored the feeling of her breasts pressing themselves onto his chest.

All of his pain seemed to ooze out of his pores the longer he hugged Pansy.

"Could you kiss the troubles away?" Draco asked. Pansy did as she told with enthusiasm. She cupped his face to first delicately kiss his forehead, then trailed equally delicate kisses down his nose. She placed wet kisses on his cheeks, finally cracking under the pressure of just leaving delicate, chaste kisses all over his face. Before she knew it, she was kissing him square on the lips viciously, as if she would never kiss anyone like that again as long as she lived. She explored his mouth longingly, adoringly. Pansy never tasted anything as unique as Draco's mouth.

"Thanks for the kisses, Pansy," Draco gasped, knees still weak from her vicious kissing.

"Could you cuddle the pain away?" He asked, and this time, the words came out of his mouth as more of a gleeful order than a pained whimper. He completely and utterly forgot what he was in pain about, now that he thought about it. Pansy did just as she was told, and lead him to the couch where both of them could sit in each other's arms.

"Are you a virgin?" Pansy asked, breaking the silence. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"What does it matter?" Draco questioned, with a shrug.

"It doesn't. I'm just curious," Pansy kept the nonchalant tone in her voice, seemingly unaware that Draco avoided her question so far.

"Well, it's none of your business," Draco hissed, inching quietly away from where Pansy sat.

"Why isn't it any of my business? I've known you practically all of my life, I have a right to have my curiosity satisfied," Pansy asked, as she scooted close enough to Draco to lay her heat on his shoulder.

"What will it take to get you off my back about my virginity?" He froze in place as he thought about what she could have said, and then tried to politely push Pansy's head off his shoulder.

"Your answer."

"You're a clever little thing, aren't you?" Pansy smiled, and started drawing idle lines with her fingers up and down his bare neck.

"That I am." Draco sighed. He was completely content with Pansy's subtle touches.

"Promise to keep your mouth shut when I answer you," Draco explained. Pansy nodded absently, kissing his neck lightly. She also left soft kisses on his shoulder, then slowly removed his robes and kissed his bare body, slowly and deliberately and plentifully. He shivered, and Pansy couldn't tell if he was cold or if he enjoyed the trails of kisses she placed on him.

"Of course, darling, I'm the best keeper of secrets Slytherin's ever had," she said, moving Draco's body so his torso faced her. Before he answered, she straddled him and kissed him square on the lips.

"I am a virgin, alright? I've never had sex and I'm-"

"I'll change that, don't you worry," Pansy said with a maniacal grin plastered on her face.


	4. MariettaCho

**A/N: Warning! Femmeslash smut ahead, so if that bothers you please turn around now!**

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For some reason, Marietta noticed, that Cho became quiet whenever she felt any strong emotions. It wasn't something Marietta could explain properly, but she came to accept the fact after knowing Cho for so many years.

"What's wrong?" Marietta asked, putting an assuring arm around Cho's waist. Cho remained silent, and Marietta nodded absently. She knew not to prod any further, because she probably wouldn't hear a satisfactory answer out of Cho's mouth. Instead of words, Cho laid her head on the crook of Marietta's arm. Marietta kept her grip on Cho's waist firm because Cho seemed to enjoy the contact immensely.

"You look like you need a shoulder massage," Marietta suggested gently, desperate to put a grin on Cho's face. Marietta was never that great when it came to dealing with other people's sadness. Cho nodded, and moved so her body pressed against Marietta's. Cho's knots seemed to loosen, which seemed to considerably brighten her negative mood.

"Feeling any better?" Marietta asked, still massaging Cho's shoulders.

"Could you go lower? My back's been hurting a whole ton lately," Cho said, her voice soft and scared. Marietta sighed in relief, glad that Cho finally spoke something in Marietta's presence.

"Lay on your stomach, please. It will make the back massage feel so much better," Marietta suggested, and Cho did just as she was told. Marietta started massaging, taking special notice of places in which Cho seemed extra tense. Cho moaned with pleasure when Marietta massaged her mid back. She gasped at the sound of Cho's moan, and briefly stopped massaging Cho. Marietta instantly regretted gasping and stopping, but she wasn't sure how to continue the massage after hearing a moan.

"Marietta, why'd you stop? That massage was divine. It's like you've got magical hands," Cho said, then spun around in her seat to grab Marietta's hands. Marietta held Cho's gaze, and squeezed Cho's hands. Cho leaned into Marietta and kissed her passionately, aggressively, as if Marietta was the first and last person Cho would ever kiss. She leaned closer, so their torsos pressed together. Marietta liked being so close to Cho, and kissed back as fervently as she could manage. Cho untangled her hands from Marietta's, and placed them under Marietta's shirt. Marietta gasped, not expecting Cho's cold hands to lovingly explore her belly as if it was something rare and extraordinary.

Marietta gasped, this time at being touched by Cho so lovingly. Cho trailed kisses from her lips down her neck and stopped at the top of her chest.

"Why'd you stop?" Marietta asked, with a peck to Cho's cheek.

"I want caramelized chocolate," Cho stated boldly, and Marietta chuckled.

"After_ this_," Marietta kissed Cho on the lips, letting her tongue linger in Cho's mouth, "you now want chocolate drizzled with caramel? Aren't my kisses good enough?"

"Your kisses are more than good enough, I promise. I just want to fuel myself with sugar so I can keep doing _this,_" Cho stated, mimicking the warm, lingering kiss Marietta performed earlier, letting her hands briefly roam Marietta's belly yet again.

"When you put it like that, I'd gladly buy you all the caramelized chocolate you can eat," Marietta purred.

"That maniacal twinkle in your eyes really suits you, love," Cho said, and left a sloppy kiss on her cheek. Both of them got up from Marietta's bed, grinning like idiots and holding hands, hoping to never let go.


	5. LucyLysander

**A/N: Written for the NGF 200 flavorful prompts challenge, probably not my best work but it was a fun piece to write nonetheless.**

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Lucy does not like having her life be nothing but designated decisions thrust at her without her explicit consent. She will never let herself transform into an unrecognizably passive being because she was born with too much fire bursting through her veins to keep herself still. Her calmly making decisions thrown at her will never happen in anyone's life-time and Lucy wants it to stay that way.

This is a conundrum, because she is sixteen and still waiting for everything wrong in the world to conform to her ever undecided needs. Who truly desires waiting for things to change when it requires the frightening amount of courage to start the change she so desperately craves in the world?

So she tries to solve this dilemma by trying to find Lysander, who always seemed ready to answer the burning questions boiling in her head, ready to explode and leave her more confused than ever before.

"I need you and your advice," Lucy asks without blinking an eye. She made herself comfortable next to Lysander, who decided to bring her out to a wide, open field full of thickly growing grass and blooming flowers the colors of the rainbow. Lysander blinks many times, taking in his surroundings as if he's never laid upon the same grass every day for six months. He takes his sweet time to speak his mind, and Lucy doesn't mind. She wants to breathe in her surroundings, anyway. How often does one get advice from your sister's ex-boyfriend in a field of thriving grass and blooming flowers, anyway?

"What's your conundrum? Can it be solved by chocolate covered macadamia nuts baked by Father?" Lysander slowly enunciated.

"I want to make my own decisions but I feel like there's this unknown force making decisions for me, and I hate that," Lucy rambled, but cut herself short before her rambling became long winded. Lysander blinked often, as if he had never heard words formed to make sentences before. Lucy liked how he processed information, because he seemed so genuine about taking all of it in before answering.

"I think you should get out of your own mind for a few minutes a day. Let yourself not be you, so you can know what it's like to be someone different. Let the knowledge of difference consume you and help you further yourself into a path of solving your problems," Lysander explained. Lucy smiled, and the whole world made sense so quickly. She didn't say anything in response, not wanting to ruin such a beautifully crafted moment said by such a profound young man.

Lucy reached for Lysander's hand, because she found comfort in holding hands. His hands were too large and too square and made him seem like an entirely different person than he was. But the way they remained perfectly soft and warm made Lucy feel like the world could crumble at her feet yet could assure her easily made Lucy grin.

"Thanks for the answer, it means a lot," and with that, Lucy left him hidden in the grass to find the path she was meant to tread upon for the next portion of her life.

After the incident with the others (the "others" being the moral war fought in her head) was resolved, she felt a lot better.


	6. NevilleHannah

**A/N: The idea of Neville and Hannah being paired together in canon makes my heart melt with the potential adorable fluffy situations they could get in together. With that thought, this fic was born!**

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Neville's fascination with Hannah started in their fourth year, when girls began to transform into befuddling yet attractive creatures who seemed so much more approachable as recently as June of third year.

"You're knowledgeable with words, aren't you Hannah?" Neville blurted out one afternoon as he stumbled into the library, looking for a book to help him understand Charms and to finally catch up in the class. He hated falling behind because it made him feel stupid for not being able to understand the material as well as everyone else. Anxiety over class wasn't fun.

"Yeah, you could say that," Hannah hesitated. He wasn't sure why she sounded so nervous. Neville hoped he hadn't done anything that would offend her. He banished the sudden flurry of negative thoughts that ran through his head about Hannah.

"That's good news! Because I've got a question for you," Neville asked, the enthusiasm in his voice genuine, despite it sounding forced to an outsider's ears. He brought up a chair next to her

"I respect your enthusiasm," Hannah commented with a small grin sitting on her face. Neville noticed that she had dimples when she smiled, and he found that endearing. Some other girls had dimples, too, but she was one of the few girls who could pull it off as she did. Neville grinned in response to her grin.

"Thanks!" He was taken off guard for a brief moment by her compliment. After seconds of basking in the light of her kind words, Neville realized he'd lost his train of thought. That happened pretty frequently, so it wasn't so much bothersome as much as it was distracting.

"So I was reading a bit in a Charms book I found today," Neville said as he began regaining his thoughts, "and I found the word salubrious used in a sentence. I don't recognize the world salubrious, because it seems like such a weird word to use in a book about Charms. So I thought I'd ask you to tell me because you know these things." He rambled instead of asking her what salubrious meant in a straightforward fashion. She probably thought he was weird.

Oh Merlin, what if Hannah didn't want to answer the question? What if she pitied him so much for the question that she couldn't even give him a full definition of the word? Even worse, what if Hannah gave him a false definition? What if-?

"I agree, salubrious is a weird word to use in a book about Charms," Hannah said, "because it means healthy, and I can't imagine why anyone would want to describe a charm as healthy. It's pretty odd."

"Thanks for the definition. It helps a whole lot," Neville said, and then fell silent. Now that he had his question answered, there was no reason to stay and chat. He wished to stay and talk for hours to satiate his curiosity about her. But she seemed busy, doing something vaguely academic and all.

"You're very sweet, and I like you a lot," Neville blurted out for the second time this afternoon. His heart began to race and he felt his face become hot with a light magenta blush. After all, Neville didn't anticipate saying those words out loud. He thought them often enough, but couldn't find the right context in which to say them. How could Neville find the right context? He rarely saw Hannah, and when he did, opinions of that nature never really came up.

"Really?" She asked, her face colored with a similar of shade magenta. Neville grabbed her hands, looked her straight in her blue eyes and replied with a resounding, "Yes!"

"I've never liked anyone as much as you," Neville admitted, his hands still intertwined with Hannah's, and he nearly regretted saying such soppy things. They both remained silent.

"What now?" Hannah asked.

"I dunno. Want to continue as we were?" Neville replied, half embarrassed and half relieved about the situation.

"Sure. Except this time, we're going to talk more." Neville never agreed with a statement Hannah said more in his entire life.


	7. BlaiseMillicent

**A/N: this is a new style for me so i'd appreciate feedback. i also had a blast writing this. **

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I don't think antiques are worth their value. Sure, there's a historical value to them somewhere but to be quite truthful, I find it difficult to even agree with that statement. I have no sentimental bones in my body, so becoming attached to things isn't exactly my forte. Dusty vases with overly ornate designs and a color scheme to put most with perfect eyesight like I do to shame.

This is such a petty peeve that I rarely ever voice it. So I plan on keeping this idea to myself because who would ask about my pettiest of peeves, anyway.

"Blaise, I can't believe you're thinking at a time like this," Millicent sneered at me, as if insulting someone like me would do her asymmetrical, disgusting mug any favors. She was as unrefined as she was strange looking, and this statement proved my theory further.

"Don't be jealous that you can't have my brilliant combination of brains and beauty, Bulstrode," I replied with malice equal to Millicent's. Her face scrunched up and turned red from anger.

"What? Have I offended you, Millie?" If I were to throw mud at her, might as well use things I knew she despised. Millicent loathed the nickname Millie with all of her heart to the point of finding it on the same level as a personal attack. Personally, I thought Millie suited her in an odd, somehow adorable way.

I would have never thought to call Millicent, of all people, adorable. There was definitely something unique about her, that's for sure. Of course she was tough as a brick wall and had a temperament that called for not getting on her bad side if you could help it. Despite her unrefined, downright rude behavior, I found something fascinating about her. But I couldn't let her win this battle. So it would be in my best interests to keep my mouth shut. At least, so I'd be unable to fawn over her with positive things to say about her.

"Yes, you have! You're more useless than an antique vase." Although this was supposed to sound insulting, I burst out into laughter. I don't know why I found Millicent's retort at all funny, though, because the words that came out of her mouth made her sound like an immature imbecile.

"I hate antiques," I murmured, unable to find a witty reply. A smug smirk spread across Millicent's face, as if she won the word spar she had with me. Just for the record, she hasn't won anything. She's too crude to craft words like a worldly scholar.

"I hate them, too. What if we hated them together?" She asked, her voice too eager. I raised an eyebrow in confusion. Millicent looked crestfallen, although I wasn't sure why. I hadn't done anything wrong. At least, not anything I could see that could be perceived as wrong. I was usually good at catching myself if I said something callous or tactless.

"Who asks others to hate antiques together?" I blurted out, again not catching myself for ever uttering this useless, tactless question. Her face contorted in a strange way and in an emotion I couldn't read. I was really feeling out of the loop, and I couldn't really explain why. Maybe being in the presence of someone as forgettable yet fascinating and contradictory as Millicent threw my brain waves off. That could explain it.

"People like me, that's who. You can say no, if you'd like," Millicent explained, as if it was the most obvious way to answer my question. Obviously, it wasn't. But I had to let it slide because what else would make sense, anyway.

"I think I fancy you!" I said without thinking. I cursed my out-of-control lips for moving without my brain's consent. I think fancying Millicent could explain my brain malfunctioning all throughout this conversation. Even before I've talked with her today and realizing my fascination with her did I find her intriguing. There were times in which I thought about how her eyebrows arched and how her long, thick bangs fell atop her brown eyes and how she was less conventionally beautiful than the other Slytherin girls and how-

This is ridiculous. A look of confused terror spreads across Millicent's face, and I agree. I could totally understand where her look came from. How could I even consider her emotionally or physically attractive? This would probably remain an eternally unanswered question.

"You've got the wrong girl," Millicent said, her face suddenly pale with embarrassment.

"I don't," I say with hesitation. I take a deep breath to steady my sudden bout of nerves.

"you're different than other girls-"

"I'm not. I'm just like all the other Slytherin girls. I'm cunning and ambitious and I've got a temper and I want good things for myself and I'm vulnerable-" She began to babble in defense of herself. I found that inexplicably attractive, and I should probably tell her that.

"Because you can admit that, Millicent, that makes you different than other girls. I know I've been a huge arse to you and never meant a single apology I gave you," she snorts out laughter because I've told her the truth coated in a joke, "and I want to make this relationship, well, this potential relationship, work." I stop myself before I embarrass myself any further. She took a step forward, and intertwined her fingers with mine. She leaned forward and placed a feather-soft peck on my cheek. I could barely tell she kissed me the first time and the only reason I noticed was because the cheek Millicent kissed tingled.

"This is all too much to take in for now, Blaise," she said, which I completely understood.

"When this whole thing sinks in, I'll formulate a coherent answer and get back to you." Millicent presses her lips onto mine in a quick, sloppy kiss, and scurries away. We don't talk about what happened today, because this was clearly a blunder on my part. If she never talks to me again, I would be relieved. Some time passed. And by "some" time, I meant precisely two and a half weeks on the dot. I know that it was the exact date, because I kept track. Pathetic, I know. But it kept me from obsessively asking her every day about how she felt. If I hounded her like that, Millicent would have pitched a fit, and I wouldn't want that sitting atop her shoulders.

"Hello, Blaise," Millicent greeted with a curt smile. I return that curt smile, and I notice that I feel giddy in her presence.

"Hello, Millicent," I replied, and bowed, trying to lighten the mood up. It didn't work, but it was worth the try.

"I'm sorry, Blaise," she said, and that wasn't a good sign. My heart sank. She didn't return my feelings. I was pretty set on her liking me.

"It's fine." I said, trying my best to keep my voice even.

"I actually meant that I'm sorry about not talking to you. I return your feelings." She said, her entire body glowing. I hugged her so tight that I was sure she couldn't breathe. I couldn't believe how happy I was that she finally told me her true feelings. It almost felt too good to be true.

"Prove to me that this isn't a dream, Millicent." She did so by kissing me so deeply and so passionately that when we broke apart, I gasped for air and pleaded for another wondrous, delicious kiss. She smirked, and pecked my cheek as if to spite me.

"I'm definitely going to enjoy dating you," I said, with a matching smirk.


	8. AliciaGeorge

Alicia liked playing Quidditch with as much roughness as she could possibly manage. The most interesting thing about the notion of playing Quidditch with the intention to roughhouse was that she wasn't particularly a violent off of the court. In fact, her reputation at Hogwarts revolved around being the silent, brilliant type. The few words that left her lips were ones of great beauty and wise beyond her years. But the rush of adrenaline she felt during a match where she could fight, punch, bruise and bleed were the best matches. Alicia felt alive, like an entirely different person capable of anything. Euphoria and adrenaline, Alicia decided one afternoon, was a flawlessly constructed feeling that manifested itself in furthering her own happiness. Otherwise she'd be flooded with the emotions and unsolvable sounding problems other students, and she wouldn't have that at all.

Alicia didn't mind that many students rightfully treated her like a counselor. In fact, she encouraged the fact that students from all years and all houses sought out the wise advice that exited her mouth. Instead of letting Alicia listen to their problems as an unbiased third party and guide them into answering questions themselves, students used her for further gain. She would solve their eternally bothersome problems and answer their burning questions in the blink of an eye. She hated being chased after so furiously. Alicia had a reputation as a helpful, reliable counselor-type; she had to admit that enjoyed every second of it. But the side of her who liked violent Quidditch matches didn't like being so soft and sentimental. The attitude Alicia cultivated as a counselor wore her down; even though she loved the way a person's eyes lit up with appreciation and gratitude, her own desires and wishes were compromised.

_It's not easy being so thoughtless and so kind to people I barely even know,_ Alicia thought with a sense of bitterness. She wished it was easy to besmirch her own name, just so people would avoid her. She desperately craved people to stop asking so much of her, as if she had an infinite amount of energy to give. Alicia needed people to help her too. Sometimes she feels like reciprocity doesn't exist, that it's just a construct to fool people like her into giving and giving to others until there was literally nothing else to give.

Once she graduated Hogwarts, Alicia made the decision to not pursue counseling. If she couldn't handle it as a student, it wouldn't interest her to pursue it in adults whose problems were infinitely worse than a teenager's.

She pursued many odd jobs, from working at Florian Fortescue's Ice Cream shop at Hogsmeade where she put smiles on the faces of wizards and witches alike who wanted a delicious scoop of ice cream to briefly working as a reserve Chaser on some unknown Quidditch team. None of these jobs were all that steady, but she was okay with that. She would rather keep moving doing things she held vague interest in. Doing nothing at all didn't appeal to her on any level.

Then, one day she was offered a job as an advice columnist for an up-and-coming newspaper simply called The Forward Chronicle. The column was called "Ask Me Anything", where she was called "The Advice Witch". Somehow, word got out that she was the right person for the job. She wasn't sure if she should take it because of her negative opinions.

_I'd have distance from people who only want to take advantage of my help_, rationalized Alicia. Besides, she was more than qualified to take the job. That thought alone convinced her to take the job, and she accepted.

The first letter she got started with asked: "Let's be completely honest for a little while now, shall we? I'm almost positive that I'm in love with someone I've known since I was in school, and I want to let them know. Unfortunately, we've lost contact after graduation. How do I reconnect with that person without coming off as desperate for their romantic attention?" Alicia smiled at questions like these, because she could relate to them. She remembered being so in love with that special someone that it hurt her very soul; she also remembered the deep, all-consuming fear of rejection that overwhelmed her senses. Alicia checked the name of who sent the question so she could properly respond to them. The person signed as Wizardly Wheeze.

That name sounded-

It was George. It just_ had_ to have been.

Alicia and George were incredibly close at Hogwarts, and got along with alarming ease. They were also alarmingly affectionate with each other, calling each other silly pet names and playfully smacking each other.

_He probably wanted to date me then!_ Alicia thought, feeling immediately selfish for jumping to that conclusion. She then hid her head in her hands. _How could I not have seen the signs?_

Before analyzing the situation further, she furiously wrote a response:

_Dear Wizardly Wheeze;_

_First of all, don't be afraid of coming off as desperate for romantic attention. The worst thing you could feel right now is afraid. Confidence and calmness-in that order!-will get you a long way. Send an owl describing how you feel for the person. Remember: you feel be confident and calm about the situation and admitting your feelings won't be so difficult._

_-The Advice Witch_

Alicia smiled; she expected to hear from George very soon.

* * *

**A/N: The Forward Chronicle, and the Advice Column are entirely of my own creation. I know this may not be my best work (I'm sure it sounds rushed in places), but I think it's definitely worth leaving a review. I love Alicia/George, and haven't written a fanfiction for them in ages. I hope you enjoyed reading this enough to leave a review!**


	9. VictoireTeddy

Victoire never showed any kind of emotion, having perfectly mastered the art of concealing the pesky act of emotion and feeling showing up on her face like unsightly blemishes. Wherever she went, her long blond locks billowed behind her like a cape. She constantly asserted her superiority; she always, without fail, not so subtly reminded anyone who passed her way (accidentally or otherwise, but mainly otherwise for maximum effect) that Victoire was prettier, smarter, better, and easily more talented in everything she could conceive of trying. With just a frigid glance of her icy blue eyes, she could easily send the strongest, most athletic Quidditch playing seventh year to their knees. This superiority was a point of pride for Victoire.

Rumors hatched about her whenever she walked down the hallways, and they were always swirling around her like riptides. It did not stop her from being the best person she could act. Victoire loved them, lived them, and even inhaled them like oxygen. They could never hurt the girl with the heart of steel and the eyes of ocean ice and the hair of flame kissed platinum. Victoire prided herself on each unique rumor that found their way to her ears.

Her favorite?

She would steal your boyfriend in a minute, only to shatter his heart in a million different pieces and leave him broken, lusting for something more, something his current girlfriend couldn't give him. This was only half true (believe it or not), because, although she was often the 'other woman' in relationships that wasn't hers, she couldn't bear to go so far as to completely break the poor guy. As much fun as it would be for Victoire to leave a trail of broken hearts and broken shells, her heartlessness had standards.

Lately, her eyes latched on a new boy: Teddy Lupin, the resident full-time good-two-shoes and part-time heart-throb of Hufflepuff. He was definitely her type: tall, athletic, broad shouldered and incredibly, mind-numbingly attractive. The fact that he had a warm, open face and a beautiful smile was a definite plus. His hazel eyes were inviting and sweet, his hair the perfect shade of mousy brown. Victoire could feel her heart defrosting just a bit when she was around him, as cliché as that sounded. She felt comfortable around him, she felt she could just spill her heart out to him and he wouldn't judge her for it. It helped that he was beyond attractive. He was a challenge, and she relished it with glee. They didn't know each other on a personal level but she was going to make him regret not talking to her before this.

"Teddy!" She gasped, although she isn't sure it was a great idea to call out his name in the middle of a crowded hallway during passing into the next class. He stopped in his tracks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He looked positively adorable when he tried to figure out who called out his name. Victoire grinned her patented gorgeous smile, and Teddy seemed to relax a little bit.

"Oh, hi!" He said. Even when Teddy was caught off guard, Victoire couldn't help but notice his best features. He was as attractive as Victoire herself.

"Sorry, I don't think we've met. I'm Victoire Weasley," she said, reaching her hand out to shake his.

"It seems you already know me," he said, smiling wide. He didn't seem offended by her frank attitude. Victoire was convinced that he never felt negative emotions, period.

"I guess!" She laughed nervously, the first time she ever felt butterflies in her stomach because of a guy. It was usually _her_ causing fluttering in people's stomachs. There are always times for firsts like this, she guessed, but she didn't like this one. She chose to ignore it for now and continued to talk with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.

Later that afternoon and throughout the next few weeks, Victoire couldn't help but constantly think of Teddy; it frightened her more than she can articulate. She wanted the images of his brilliant smile and how his dimples were asymmetrical, how he had a handful of dark freckles splattering on one side of his face, how he could walk around Hogwarts so proudly, willingly unaware that people could and would judge him for any imperfection out of her mind. She ran to the girl's loo to look at her reflection. She wanted to find character defining defects that would make her likeable like Teddy and the idea that she wants flaws (flaws, of all things, how unlike Victoire.) makes her want to cry until the tears ran out.

_All of a sudden, I want to change,_ Victoire thought frantically, _and it's because of one interaction with a nice guy who I barely know. _

(Later she would learn it's because he cared and had a good heart. She felt that and wanted to be like him because of that. How odd that she was so easily swayed.)

* * *

Victoire had the perfect plan to get Teddy to evacuate from her head as soon as possible: break the illusion of perfection Teddy gave off. Granted, it was only half thought out but it was better than nothing at all.

"Hello," she greeted in the hallway one afternoon. Victoire noticed how alarmed she sounded moments after her greeting slipped out of her lips, and she was glad that Teddy was unaware or had mercy on Victoire's frazzled soul by purposely ignoring the alarm present in her voice.

"Hi, Victoire," Teddy said with a small grin. Her heart melted

"Um…er…." she muttered, her heart pounding so hard she could barely hear or even think straight. How could she have said something so stupid?

"How fascinating," he laughed.

"Right! Yes, it's definitely something worth reading up on," Victoire said, sighing in relief at Teddy's sense of humor.

"What're you here for?" Teddy asked. She shrugged.

"Just wanted to chat, I guess."

"Are there any specific things you wanna chat about?"

"Not in particular. You can surprise me." Victoire was convinced about one fact: she could get comfortable idolizing Teddy Lupin. Victoire was convinced about a second fact: she was disappointed in herself for not erasing this boy out of her head.

She fell asleep last night after a half hour of tossing and turning to dream of the boy who created conflicts in her heart, and who made her brain short circuit.

* * *

Victoire concluded her first plan of talking to Teddy to ruin her illusion of him failed quite spectacularly. She came to a second, more logical conclusion about Teddy. She wanted to have nothing to do with him; she wanted nothing more than to have him out of her life. Even the briefest amounts of time that he was around her made Victoire feel like she had drunk a drug laced poison that tainted her from the inside out. She wanted that taint to be expelled from the every part of her body.

Victoire ceases thinking about him after her initial decision, and her life continues normally except for the idea of trying to care about the boy's hearts she'd eventually try to break. It's because of him she cares now and she had now resigned herself to not actually minding the change. Boys are more interesting now, and they actually mean something. Not like other times, when she just chased a boy because she was pretty and he was handsome and she just could.

Victoire loved Teddy, and that changed her life. It was a dramatic statement, sure, but it meant she changed herself in the process. Maybe she could apply this character development to her later life.


End file.
